


A Heartbreaking Impossibility

by Lise



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (almost never), Bonding, F/F, Female Relationships, Femslash, First Kiss, Heavy Foreshadowing, Morgana isn't always good at feelings, POV Female Character, POV Gwen, Pre-Series, Sharing a Bed, and then everyone was happy the end, what cuties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uther's ward needed a lady's maid. Morgana needed something else. Gwen is trying to figure out what she needs, somewhere in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heartbreaking Impossibility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyryk (s_k)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/gifts).



> I was delighted for the chance to write Morgana/Gwen fic! Which is - one of my major OTPs, and hands down my favorite thing about the Merlin series. I tried to go for early series happiness, but my penchant for sads may have snuck in there a little. I am very sorry. >>; With many thanks to [onetrueharem](http://onetrueharem.tumblr.com) for looking this over for me and giving it the thumbs up. 
> 
> Happy femslash exchange, lyryk! I hope the gift pleases you, and may you have many ladies kissing (and doing a lot of other fun things, too) in your fandom life to come.

Gwen was eleven and her mother tugged the knots out of her hair and told her to stand up straight . “The king’s ward needs a maidservant,” she said, “and Sir Leon’s been kind enough to recommend you as a girl her age.” She kissed her once on each cheek, rubbed something off Gwen’s nose, and nodded firmly. “Make me proud, Guinevere.” 

Her impressions of Uther were largely that he was stern and terrifying, but the interview with him was brief before she was ushered into a room bigger than her house. The girl sitting by the window was stick-thin and pale, her face red and splotchy and her hair a snarled mess. Gwen felt immediately self-conscious; she knew she wouldn’t want anyone to see her when she’d just been crying. 

The girl scrubbed her face and sat up straight a moment later, though. “What is _she_ doing here?” she asked, clear and imperious, and Gwen’s sympathy evaporated. She remembered her manners, though, and ducked her head to make a little curtsy. 

“I’m to be your maid,” she said, politely. Baleful grey-green eyes stared at her. 

“I don’t want a maid,” she said, rather rudely, Gwen thought.

“By the looks of your hair you need one,” she shot back, and then felt her face go hot. Elyan always said she had too big of a mouth. The girl – the Lady Morgana, Gwen reminded herself – stared at her, looking perfectly astonished, and Gwen completely forgot how to apologize. 

“Out, girl!” Uther barked, after a moment’s stunned silence from the entire room. “I will not have-”

“No,” Morgana said, suddenly, “wait.” Gwen, who had been halfway through turning to bolt out the door before the king decided he wanted her executed, froze, suddenly uncertain. Perhaps she was going to be whipped, she thought, in terror. She didn’t want to be whipped. “I want her,” Morgana said. “She can stay.”

“I will not suffer you to have an insolent serving girl,” the king said. Gwen glanced to the girl and watched her draw herself up, lifting her chin. 

“I think I can manage one servant. Or do you think I can’t stand up for myself?” 

She watched the king hesitate, but only for a second or two before he turned to her. “If I hear of any trouble,” he said, in a warning voice. “You will obey my ward’s every order. See to it her needs are satisfied.” Gwen tried to look very adult as she curtsyed again, and the king turned and swept out. 

“I’m sorry I spoke out of turn,” she said in a rush, when he was gone, still keeping her eyes on the floor. She’d tagged along with her mother, some, but she knew more about blacksmithing than she did about being a lady’s maid. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

Morgana made a sort of ‘pff’ noise. “You’re not wrong,” she said. Gwen looked up quickly and found the lady pulling her own hair over her shoulder and looking at the rat’s nest of the ends. “I haven’t really…mother used to brush it for me.” Her voice faltered, and she looked down, bit her lip. Gwen could tell she was trying not to cry. 

Guinevere chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment, then drew herself up. “Do you have a brush?” she asked. “I know it wouldn’t be the same, but…I _could_ do it. It’s what I’m supposed to be here for, isn’t it?” 

The Lady Morgana blinked, her eyes suddenly quite round, and then looked down at her feet. “No,” she said, and Gwen felt her heart sink. She fidgeted, awkwardly, wondering why Uther’s ward had asked her to stay at all if she was just going to sit there and look unhappy. But then, “can you just sit here with me and talk?” the girl said, and it was Gwen’s turn to stare at her, though she realized the rudeness of it a moment later. 

“Oh. Um.” Gwen dropped her gaze to her feet, and then managed to say, bravely, “Of course! Whatever you wish.” She looked around for a chair, and not seeing one, sat down on the floor. A moment later, the Lady Morgana jumped lightly off the windowsill and sat on the floor with her.

“Perhaps we can be friends,” Morgana said, brightening a little. Gwen could feel her face heating, but Morgana sounded so _desperately_ lonely that she smiled bravely and raised her eyes and said, “I’d like that.” 

The way the Lady Morgana smiled made her feel good that she’d said it, and made her hope, just a little, that it would be true.

* * *

Gwen was thirteen and her mother was sick. 

Not just her mother; many people had fallen ill, and the court physician Gaius (she liked Gaius, he was always kind to her) was busy with Arthur. Morgana had told her to go home when she’d heard about the illness, and Gwen was trying to help, but nothing she could do was making it better. Her mother’s cough was growing weaker and weaker, and her father’s face was drawn and fearful. 

He sent her out of the house to fetch water, and when she came back in he was kneeling by the bed and weeping, still clutching her mother’s hand, and Elyan was sitting hollow-eyed by the table, not looking so young as he had when she’d stepped out. 

Everything was too quiet. She wandered out of the house without any clear idea of where she was going, and didn’t realize until she was standing outside Morgana’s rooms. She felt immediately self-conscious and turned to leave, but as though Morgana had known she was there she opened the door. She looked surprised, though, so she couldn’t actually have known. 

“I thought you were at home,” Morgana said, sounding startled. Gwen looked down at her feet. 

“I should go. Milady.” She almost felt Morgana frown. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

Gwen didn’t mean to. She didn’t _want_ to. But the dazed feeling broke and all that was behind it was a flood of wet, ugly tears, and suddenly she was bawling on the lady Morgana’s doorstep and couldn’t make herself stop. “I’m sorry,” she managed, through her tears, “I don’t – I just – it’s my mother,” she squeezed out, and through a blurry sheen of tears, saw Morgana’s face crumple sympathetically. 

“Oh,” she said, very softly, and Gwen heard herself make an awful wailing noise and wanted to sink through the floor. She shouldn’t have come here. Even if Morgana was friendly, and mostly kind, that didn’t mean she wanted to listen to Gwen sob. But even as she tried to turn away, embarrassed, Morgana moved to hug her in a sudden, almost awkward motion. 

Gwen froze at once. “I’m so sorry,” Morgana said, her voice muffled, her arms snug aroud Gwen. “I’m so sorry, I wish I could do something…”

Gwen dissolved into Morgana’s shoulder. The tears seemed to be endless; they just kept coming, and it was no good trying to swallow them back. Morgana didn’t give very good hugs – she was bony and angular and her body poked into Gwen’s in weird places, but at the moment she didn’t really notice. 

It seemed to take forever for the tears to run out, and even then they weren’t really gone, just a little further away. She felt wrung out and exhausted and wretched, and everything just seemed like – too _much._ Her eyes ached and she wanted just to crawl into bed and hope that this was all a bad dream. 

Gwen noticed, belatedly, a big wet patch on the shoulder of Morgana’s nice dress. “I’m sorry,” she said again, but Morgana shook her head firmly. 

“It’s just a dress,” she said. After a brief hesitation, she added, “You can stay here tonight. If you want.” 

Gwen blinked dully. “I should go home,” she said. She had to think about her father, and her brother, but thinking about going back to the little house with her mother not in it…

“Stay,” Morgana said, more firmly. “It’s getting dark. You probably shouldn’t…here.” She stepped back, and tugged Gwen into her rooms, almost fluttering in a way that didn’t seem much like Morgana. “My bed’s enormous. We can share it.”

It did look…vast, and warm, and delightful, and when Morgana gave her a little nudge, Gwen didn’t have the energy to argue. She crawled under the covers and closed her eyes. Just lying there, though, she started thinking about it again, how her mother was gone, _forever,_ and a little sob escaped her. 

“It gets better,” Morgana said, quietly. “A little.” Gwen curled up and didn’t answer. 

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she remembered waking up in the morning, she and Morgana curled up close together under the covers on that vast bed.

* * *

Gwen was fifteen, and she’d woken up in the middle of the night alone in Morgana’s room. 

For a moment, she was terrified that Morgana had snuck out to go – something or other, probably dangerous, but then she noticed that her riding boots were still where she’d left them, in the middle of the floor. She sat up with a sigh, and glanced toward the door. Probably it was nothing. 

Still, her worry had already gotten the better of her, and Gwen swung her legs out of bed, shivering as her feet touched the cold floor. 

Gwen wandered down the hallway, not sure where she was going until she descended a flight of stairs and smelled smoke. Alarmed, she quickened her pace in the direction of the smell and realized as she rounded a corner that there was swearing coming from the kitchen. 

She hurried down the last hallway and burst in, only to see Morgana glowering at something black and charred that might, once, have been something edible. She stopped dead. 

“What are you doing?” Gwen asked, and her voice sounded a little shrill. Morgana’s head whipped around and she made as though to shove the charred thing behind her back, her eyes briefly comically wide. 

“Gwen! Nothing, it’s nothing. What are you doing awake?” 

“What are _you_ doing awake?” Gwen asked, before she could think how impolite that was, and then immediately winced. “I don’t mean – I woke up and you weren’t there, and I wasn’t certain…were you trying to bake something?” She tried to lean to peer around Morgana, but Morgana shuffled just enough to continue to block her view.

“No,” Morgana said, and Gwen couldn’t help but give her a look. She looked just slightly chastened, but only for a moment. “Maybe.” She lifted her chin haughtily. “What is it to you?” 

“Well,” Gwen said, keeping her mouth from twitching. She was not going to laugh. “I don’t want you to burn the kitchen down, for one thing. Or yourself.” Morgana flushed, bright red in her pale face even in the minimal light. 

“I’m not going to burn anything down,” she said, a little snappishly, but then sighed, drooping a little. “It didn’t _seem_ so complicated,” Morgana added, a touch indignant, and Gwen bit her lip to keep from smiling. 

“What didn’t?” 

Morgana shot her a look. “You didn’t think I _forgot,_ did you? I just wanted-” she stopped, and turned around, so Gwen got a better look at the burnt monstrosity. She still wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be, though. She took a step forward. 

“Forgot what? And it’s not as though…couldn’t you just ask someone to make you…whatever it is? No one’s going to refuse you.” 

“I _know,_ ” Morgana said, sounding peevish again though it faded quickly, “but I wanted to…it was supposed to be for you.” 

Gwen’s head snapped around. “For me?” 

“I wanted to make you something,” Morgana mumbled. “For your birthday. But obviously that’s ruined now.” Gwen could only stare, gaping a little, and Morgana drew herself up. “Well, never mind. Go back to bed, Gwen, I can…”

“Wait,” Gwen said, and then bit her lip. She didn’t feel like laughing so much, not anymore. There was a funny warm feeling in her chest. When Morgana looked at her, not quite sharply, she rushed on. “I mean – I’ll go. If you want me to. But I was just going to say that – that I could teach you some baking. If you wanted. Not – not that you would want to, but at least so if you wanted to make something it wouldn’t…” she trailed off. 

“It wouldn’t make much of a gift if you had to help me make it,” Morgana said, after a pause. Gwen summoned a smile, though it felt shy and a little strange. 

“It would be…nice,” Gwen said. “To get to show you something, for a change. And then next year…” She trailed off, not quite able to look Morgana in the eye, but after a moment she stepped forward a little. 

“Next year,” Morgana said, and then smiled. “All right. Why don’t you show me something, for a change.” 

Gwen’s heart did a funny little flip in her chest, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

* * *

Gwen was seventeen and she was riding with Morgana. 

Morgana never seemed, to Gwen, to smile enough, but when they were outside like this she seemed so much lighter, freer, quicker to laugh. Gwen stayed close to her and felt shabby and small, but not jealous. No, something else. 

“Let’s go this way,” Morgana called, indicating a narrow trail splitting off from the main path. “I want to see what’s down there.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Gwen asked. The path looked overgrown and somewhat eerie to her, but she wasn’t about to say so outright. Morgana flashed a smile over her shoulder. 

“Come,” she said, “we’re barely outside of Camelot. What could happen? And even if something did – I’d protect you, Gwen.” 

_But I can’t protect you,_ Gwen wanted to protest, but she followed after with only a quiet sigh. She knew from experience how much use it was to argue with Morgana when she wanted to do something. 

It seemed to get quieter as they went down the narrow trail, which dipped steeply downhill into a little gully. Plants swished along their horses' sides, and Gwen caught herself looking nervously around, half expecting some kind of creature to burst from the bushes. Morgana glanced back at her, and drew in her horse. “Gwen?” she said, her eyebrows furrowing. “Are you all right?” 

“Of course,” Gwen said quickly, but Morgana’s frown deepened. 

“If you didn’t want to go this way, you could have said so,” she said. Gwen decided not to point out that historically Morgana tended to do as she wished, whatever Gwen’s concerns, and kept a diplomatic silence. “Let’s turn around,” Morgana said, after a moment. “We can find another trail. I doubt this is going anywhere anyway.” 

Gwen felt a rush of relief and gratefulness, and brought in the reins to turn her horse around. 

An arrow zipped right by her ear, close enough that she felt the heat, and she screamed in surprise, and suddenly there were bandits _everywhere,_ grabbing at her horse’s reins. Her mare reared up and Gwen grabbed for her mane, but missed her grip as one of the men grabbed her skirt and yanked her sideways and she tumbled ungracefully to the ground, kicking and clawing and where was Morgana, had she gotten away-

“You let go of her!” 

Morgana’s voice was clear and strident. Gwen twisted her head round and saw Morgana on the ground, holding a sword in two hands, her mouth a flat line and her eyes blazing. There were already two men, Gwen realized, lying dead at her feet. 

One of the others drew a blade of his own. “Or what?” 

Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “Or I kill the lot of you.” 

They were going to kill her, Gwen thought, with panic, but then the men holding her threw her back to land in a heap and by the time she scrambled back up everything was clashing steel and Morgana was just visible whirling at the middle of the fight. 

Gwen looked around for something she could use as a weapon, something to help, and found a heavy tree branch. She hefted it and turned back to Morgana. One of the men that had fallen earlier, she realized, was reaching for a knife, and Morgana’s back was turned, and-

Gwen didn’t think, just swung the branch at his head as it came up. It connected with a loud thunk and he dropped back to the forest floor just as the last man fell and Morgana whirled around. She looked from Gwen, to the branch, to the man she’d just clubbed, breathing hard. 

“Are you all right?” she asked. She looked – ghastly, her hair a sight and her clothes streaked with blood, and Gwen could feel her heart trying to beat faster. She took a deep breath. 

“Yes,” she said, not quite a squeak, and locked her knees to keep them from wobbling. She dropped the branch. “Yes, I’m. Fine. I’m not hurt. Are you hurt?” Her voice sounded too high, and she was suddenly sure she was going to fall over. Morgana laughed, a little shakily. 

“No,” she said. “Well – a few scratches. They weren’t expecting a fight.” Morgana looked down at the sword and did wobble. “I’m glad I brought this,” she said, sounding a little breathless, and Gwen reached out to grab her shoulders, worried she was going to fall over. 

“That was…I knew you could swordfight,” Gwen said, “but I didn’t know you could _swordfight._ You were very brave.” 

Morgana smiled, a little crookedly. “I said I’d protect you, didn’t I?” Her hands came up and rested lightly on Gwen’s shoulders. “You’re shaking,” she said, after a moment. 

“So are you,” Gwen countered, not quite defensively. 

“I just fought a horde of bandits,” Morgana said. Her eyes fixed on Gwen’s, something strange to her expression. “—am I shaking? I couldn’t tell. You’re sure you’re all right?” 

Gwen nodded. “I’m sure,” she said, and summoned a smile.

“Good,” said Morgana, shoulders slumping. “Because I-”

Gwen wasn’t entirely sure how it happened. One minute she was hanging on to Morgana’s shoulders to steady her and Morgana’s hands were resting on hers, and the next Morgana had pounced and was kissing her, clumsily. Her lips were warm and soft and her hands tightened on Gwen’s shoulders. Her whole body was suddenly flushed and tense and extremely aware of how close they were, and there was a quiet whisper of _yes, yes this,_ somewhere in her mind or her heart or her stomach, she wasn’t sure which, but she couldn’t figure out what she was supposed to do. 

And then Morgana pulled back in a rush, her cheeks bright red and her gaze flicking away as she let go and stepped back. “Um,” she said.For the first time Gwen could think of she seemed almost awkward, uncertain. “Did I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” She turned around in a whirl. “Let me get my horse, we should go back, Uther should know about the bandits…”

“I don’t mind,” Gwen said in a rush. Morgana froze, and Gwen shook herself. “I mean – you could do that. If you wanted to. I would…” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I want to.” 

Morgana turned around slowly. “You do?” she said. 

Gwen went with her instinct. “Yes,” she said. “I do.” 

If the first kiss was clumsy and fast, the second was slow and careful. And still warm.

* * *

Gwen was nineteen and she woke up to Morgana screaming, sitting bolt upright with wild eyes. 

Gwen reached for her at once. “Morgana!” she cried. “What is it, is everything…” Morgana jerked away from her, though, wrapping her arms around herself and breathing rapidly. Gwen’s worry spiked. “It’s just a nightmare,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm and reassuring. 

“Gwen?” Morgana said, after a few moments. Her voice sounded small and almost tremulous. Gwen swallowed hard. 

“Yes,” she said. “It’s me, I’m right here.” 

Morgana made a small sound like a choked sob, and as quickly as she had shot awake she flung herself at Gwen, arms around her waist and face buried in her shoulder. “I hurt you,” she said. “I hurt you so badly, and it was – it felt so _real._ ”

Gwen slid her arms carefully around Morgana’s shoulders. “It wasn’t,” she said, still calm. “Just a dream.”

Morgana took a deep breath. “But I was so sure…”

“You’re just worrying.” Gwen stroked her fingers through Morgana’s hair in imitation of a comb. “And you don’t need to worry about me. I’m perfectly safe. I’m just a lady’s maid, who would…”

“You’re not _just_ anything,” Morgana said, almost snapped, and Gwen nearly flinched. Morgana laid a hand against her side. “—I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t like – you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The way she said that, with complete and utter honesty, made Gwen want to squirm. She settled back against the pillows instead, adjusting her arms around Morgana to be more comfortable. She could still feel Morgana’s heart pounding. “Should I get Gaius?” she asked, after a moment. “Maybe he could make something to help you sleep…”

“No,” Morgana said, at once. “No, I don’t need to…I’m fine. Just…talk to me for a little while.” She shifted to cuddle into Gwen’s side, and Gwen ran a hand up and down her shoulders, hoping that the gesture would be soothing.

“What about?” she asked. 

“Anything.” Gwen could just glimpse Morgana’s eyes staring at something else. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“I…um.” Gwen’s mind felt perfectly blank. She couldn’t think of a single thing to talk about. “Last night I had a dream in which Arthur turned into a pelican,” she blurted out, finally, and Morgana laughed a little. 

“Sounds like an improvement.” 

Gwen made a face. “He’s not that bad.” 

“He’s not your…whatever he’s supposed to be to me.” Morgana’s voice was dry, and sounded a little more sure. Gwen felt herself relax. 

“He didn’t make a very pretty pelican,” she said, and was rewarded with another laugh. 

“Is there such a thing?” Morgana asked, and shifted down so her head was resting in Gwen’s lap. Gwen started stroking her hair, almost without thinking.

“I suppose there probably isn’t,” Gwen allowed, and they both lapsed into peaceful silence for a while, Morgana’s fingers running lightly up and down Gwen’s leg. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Morgana said, suddenly, with vehemence. “You know that, right?” 

Gwen blinked. “I…yes?” she looked down at Morgana’s head, but she couldn’t see her face. “I didn’t think you would…”

“We’ll be like this forever,” Morgana said. Gwen paused. 

“Won’t you have to marry?” she asked, after a moment. Morgana scoffed. 

“No,” she said. “Not if I don’t wish to, I don’t. And I don’t wish to. Uther has Arthur to marry off to whomever he pleases. I don’t fancy that.” Gwen wasn’t certain it really worked like that, but she didn’t have the heart to say so. “You’re – you’re my best friend and my sister and my…I don’t need anyone else.” 

Gwen felt a small twinge of uncomfortable uncertainty. “That’s not true,” she said, but Morgana shook her head. 

“It is,” she insisted. “And I want you to know that. I need you to.” 

Gwen shook her head slightly. “All right,” she said, after a moment. “I know.” Morgana breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 

“I love you,” she said, after a moment. “Let’s promise…let’s promise to be friends, at least. Forever.” 

Gwen paused, but only for a moment. She found Morgana’s hand and entwined her fingers with hers. “All right,” she said. “I promise.” 

“The two of us,” Morgana said, and let out a quiet sigh. “Always.” 

_What if,_ Gwen thought, _what if,_ but at the same time there was a warm feeling in her chest that she didn’t want to lose. If anyone was stubborn enough to make the world do what she wanted it to, Gwen thought, it would be Morgana. Brave, strong, stubborn Morgana. 

“I love you too,” she said softly. But didn’t add _always._ At least not aloud. Not yet.


End file.
